Five Cigarettes Jane Smoked
by saoulbete
Summary: And one she didn't. She's never been a smoker, per se, but it's times like this when it feels like the world wants to collapse around her that she allows herself this one little guilty pleasure.
1. Chapter 1

A/N so this is something that will get a wee bit angsty, but it does, actually have a happy ending. I can definitely picture Jane as the sort that had smoked when she was a teenager just because it was the 90's, and smoking was cool and rebellious, and just sort of grew out of it outside of moments of stress.

* * *

She gave a furtive glance around her, trying to ensure that there was no one around that would possibly be able to recognize her and sat down on the edge of a planter, giving one last look as she clicked the lighter to life. She felt vaguely like she was fifteen again, smoking a joint just because she could, and not actually enjoying the feeling of being stoned. But this, she thought, as she took a long drag of nicotine enhanced goodness into her lungs, was just what she needed right now.

This was her rare treat to herself. And this case had gotten to her. This was something to calm her jangled nerves that a cup of coffee, or youtube videos of puppies, or even one of her mother's homecooked meals couldn't do. She closed her eyes, sighing as the deep smoky taste flittered over her tongue, deep into her lungs, chased by a little gasp of fresh air to hold it there.

She'd never really been a _smoker_ per se. There was a time, in her youth, where she had a pack on her at all times, but it had been for show more than anything. Sure she smoked, when it was still legal to do so in bars, because cigarettes and beer just went together like rum and coke, or tequila and lemonade. Or her senior year of high school, when _everyone_ smoked, and it made her feel less like Rolly Polly Rizzoli as she pretended that having a cigarette helped keep the weight off.

And it'd sort of been a fall back comfort for her, in moments like this, when she just watched a fucking _five_ year old killed without remorse. When she couldn't quite think of anything else to stop her from laying into the bastard that did it and taking justice into her own hands. So she'd excused herself from the interrogation, leaving Korsak and Frost to do their thing, and snuck out back to enjoy a cigarette.

She'd barely taken three drags when she saw the door open again. _Shit._ She thought, watching who came out of it. _Shit, shit, shit._ If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have cared. Frost or Korsak might have given her some gentle ribbing, but they wouldn't have cared. But Maura? There was no way she was ever going to live it down if Maura caught her smoking. She looked around like a cornered animal, trying to find an escape route, and only when there weren't any to be found, she tossed the cigarette away, and did her best to look innocent.

Anyone else, and she'd tell them to piss off. But Maura? She didn't know how she could stand it if Maura was disappointed in her for something that she should have had more self control over. "Jane!" She scowled at the ground, hating that her smoke had been cut short. "Vince and Barry said you'd be out here."

"Yeah, just needed to clear my head. That guy really got to me." She did her best to put on a happy face, knowing that Maura would never buy it. She hoped that the slight narrowing of Maura's eyes was over her fake show of joy than over getting caught. She thought she'd gotten away with it too, until when she slipped down into the morgue later that afternoon.

There was a half-autopsied corpse sitting on the table, and her curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked inside the Y-incision to see black, atrophied lungs worn through with holes. A yellow, sclerosed heart, and she couldn't help but smile slightly to herself, shaking her head at Maura's silent chiding of her. Her best friend knew her far too well. Any confrontation would have just led to her doing the same thing anyone did when they caught her smoking. Lecture her about how terrible it was for her. Maura, however, knew that actions spoke louder than words when it came to her.

And somehow, it did a much better job of making her feel guilty than any lecture could.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N yeah, I'm going there. This was actually written well before 3x08, but since then, I just really really have to post it.

* * *

"Since when do you smoke?" She scowled, rather unhappy with the sudden interruption.

"Since _now._" She could _feel_ her mother's disapproving gaze on her, and pointedly ignored it, staring at some unfixed space in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing my ass. Something has been bugging you all day, and now I see you out here smoking? What's gotten into you?"

"_Nothing's_ gotten into me, Ma" Maybe that was the problem.. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit." She finally looked up at where her mother was towering over her.

"What was it you used to say about me swearing?"

"Well, this is a situation that calls for it. Something is bothering you, and I'm not leaving you until I find out what it is." She sighed, looking down at the cigarette between her fingers, taking a contemplative drag off of it. "Talk. Now."

"Everything is fine."

"I know that's not true." She took a deep breath, staring at the white stick as though it could give her an answer.

"Maura's engaged." She hadn't meant it to sound so despondent. She hadn't expected it to sound so despondent, but it did. She was surprised to find her mother sitting next to her, wrapping two strong arms around her slight frame.

"Oh, Janey, Sweetie, I'm so sorry." She couldn't help but lean into the comforting embrace. She could feel herself pouting, and tried her best to stop it, but it was hard.

"Wait a minute, why are you sorry? Shouldn't you be all, jumping for joy and getting involved with wedding plans?" She asked, her sarcasm coming to back her up in a moment where she needed backing.

"Not when you're hurting." She frowned, knowing that there was a certain something in what her mother was saying that the detective in her was, well, detecting.

"Hurting?" She questioned, not really trusting the word. Now that her mother had pointed it out, she had to admit it was true. She _was_ hurting, and she didn't even know why. She was supposed to be happy for Maura, for finally finding Mr. Right. She wasn't supposed to feel so decidedly empty and hollow inside.

"Well you two are so close, and now Maura's got someone, and you don't have anyone, and now you can't just show up at her house anymore -" It was true, ever since Maura had started seeing James, the spontaneous visits and grown more and more infrequent. The worst thing was she _liked_ James. James was a good guy. He and Maura got along well. They were _cute_ together. But at the same time, she didn't like this feeling that Maura was being taken from her.

"It's just a bit of a shock, that's all." It was true. Somewhere, Jane had just assumed that the status quo would continue on. That she and Maura would just continue doing their thing, and now to have that ever-present comfort being removed from her, it _hurt._ She'd never been any good at sharing, and now having to share her best friend, the one person that she could rely on above all else? She felt almost betrayed. She didn't know why she hated this so much. This was her best friend, she was supposed to be happy, start planning a bridal shower, start planning the bachellorette party, but all she could feel was her heart sinking somewhere around her stomach.

She knew why, but she would never admit it to herself. "You'll find someone, sweetie. You're not going to be alone forever." She hated her mother, for even making the idea of being forever alone a possibility. She didn't like that idea. She found that she'd smoked the marlboro all the way down to the filter, and ground what was left into the concrete next to her, scowling at it. No, she was fairly sure she was going to be forever alone, forever sitting out there smoking idle cigarettes and hating her inaction.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N this is actually now the fourth (fifth? maybe?) time I've recycled this fic. What can I say, I love it, and it works for so many fandoms. Obviously, I have a sort of pattern for what pairings I like since I could reuse this so many times. Fuck, I could recycle like half of my Crossing Jordan fic and turn it into Rizzles, (apparently, I have a pattern of liking things that involve ME's in Boston and despicable characters named Hoyt - actually the idea of Hoyt from Rizzoli&Isles being Woody Hoyt's dad is something I've been kicking around. Thoughts?)

* * *

She sat in her seat, watching, waiting for the first instant that she would be able to leave, finding absolutely no pleasure in being there despite putting on the good show of enjoying herself. She watched Maura dance, so happy, so carefree, and wondered if she'd ever looked so happy. She was fairly sure she hadn't – there were pictures of her as a child, scowl firmly in place, usually because pictures meant having to stand still. She'd never quite been so content as Maura looked now, clad in an absolutely resplendent white gown.

Maura looked absolutely fantastic, and she tells herself was just jealousy that she would never look that good in something with far too many frills and beads and far too much lace. That she'd never be wheeled around a dance floor by someone in a matching tuxedo, looking so damn pleased. They made a cute couple, they really did. James was just the perfect height for her, and he had a geniuine, kind face, sandy hair, and looked _good_ next to Maura.

So she downs another glass of scotch, ignoring the quirked eyebrow she got from James' best man, some arrogant ass who couldn't even be bothered to shave for the wedding. She just raised her glass in a mock toast, and he did the same, returning to looking at the happy couple with matching scowls on their faces. After what felt like an eternity, she finally finished what seemed like her far too manyth glass of scotch, and looked at the best man perched across the table from her. "Dance?" She asked, holding out her hand sweetly. He looked at her, and then back at Maura and James, and took her preferred hand.

"You look like you're having fun."

"About as much as you are." They swayed gently to the music, some sort of terrible slowed down Steven Stills. "God this is awful. How do you turn Steven Stills into a funeral dirge?"

"Maybe they just read the lyrics?" She shrugged, looking over at the band tucked away in the corner.

There was a long moment while they danced, both of them shooting furtive glances at the respective people they were representing. "So, you and James?" She questioned, and her tone said all that she was questioning, "Go back a long way?"

"Something like that." Was the muttered response. "You and Maura?" She nodded. "They're _cute _together." She gives a small snort of laughter at the sarcastic comment, and thinks that if they had met at a different time, in a different place, they could have been friends once. Her and Gary, or George, or Greg or whatever the man's name was. The song ended, and they retreated back to their respective scotches, before Maura came over to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? nothing's wrong."

"You look like you're going to shoot someone, namely yourself." She frowned, hating the way that her sarcasm had rubbed off on Maura, who had actually gotten rather adept at it over the years. "What's bothering you?"

"I'm fine, really." It's a bold faced lie, but she's always been good at those.

"You're not going to tell me what's bothering you, are you?" She gave a gentle shake of her head. "Then smile, you're on video you know." She put on her best fake smile, if only for the video's sake. She didn't want Maura to look at this day twenty years down the line and see nothing but happiness and joy and then her and Greg, miserable and dour and looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. "Wait til I'm drunk – then tell me. It's why there's video, isn't there? Between the stress of wedding planning and all the toasts to us I can't even remember what the date is." She smiled, a genuine smile, glad to see a part of her friend that she hadn't seen in a long time – awkward, nervous, stressed-out Maura.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll come find you when you're ready to puke from too many whiskey sours." She gestured at the fountain flowing forth, retreating back to her own straight whiskey. She watched, idly, as Maura made it through the reception, dancing with some, laughing with others, looking _happy. _And she hated it, watching the clock tick down the moments until she could leave. She watched Greg get up, heading towards the back door, and after a moment followed him, catching him standing out there with a cigarette in hand, looking out at the sky. "Can I, uh, bum one?" She asked, graciously taking the offered cancer stick and lighter. "Thanks."

They stood there, side by side for a long moment, just_ getting_ each other. She could see it on the tall man, the idea of wanting what he couldn't have. Watching his best friend get hitched to someone else because he knew better, knew that James was straight, knew that he hadn't ever had a snowballs chance in hell, and the only thing he could do was be a good friend. If they had met under different circumstances, she's sure they would have been friends. But she knows Greg through James, and that right there is enough for her to hate him, the same as he hates her.

He wanders back in after a moment, leaving her alone with her cigarette, smoking and watching a squirrel hop from branch to branch. She heard the door open and didn't even bother to turn her head. "I'm good and drunk now, Jane. Spill." She scowled, still refusing to turn her head.

"I'm not going to ruin your wedding."

"Look, the chicken dance is coming up -" There was a pause where Jane knew Maura was fighting off the urge to go on a five minute tangent about the origins of that silly tradition, "And I'm not leaving here until you tell me what's been bothering you. So unless you want to incur the wrath of your whole family when I miss the chicken dance, I suggest you tell me what's got you out here."

"It's _nothing._" It's a blatant lie and they both know it.

"Then stop making me wonder and tell me, because not knowing _is _ruining my wedding." She frowned, staring up at the fading twilight for a long minute, not wanting to say anything, not having anything to say. She could feel Maura there, dangerously close to her, their shoulders brushing. There was an honest intensity to what Maura said, and it broke something inside of her. Turning slightly, meeting Maura's stare, she dipped her head, gently brushing her lips against Maura's.

It felt so damn _right_ and that was what scared her. It scared her that she could imagine doing this forever, never parting. This was supposed to feel so wrong and yet it didn't. It couldn't. It never could. It scared her that Maura didn't back away, but instead kissed _back_ wrapping an arm around her waist, swiping a curious tongue against her lip. It's enough to jar her back to reality from whatever cloud she'd been floating on, and she pulled back, quickly but not willingly. "Go back to your wedding, Jimmy's probably wondering where you ran off to. Go, be happy."

Maura said nothing, simply followed the order, and she stayed out there, watching the sun set, the golds and oranges fading to a dull purple that enveloped the sky, why the first notes of the chicken dance filtered through the doors, watching her cigarette burn down to the filter. She headed back in, ignoring her brother's prodding of how she could possibly miss everyone else making complete asses of themselves. No, she just ordered another whiskey and sat there, waiting for the first moment she could leave.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N so the happy ending I promised is almost done and will be posted shortly. But I've been a little ADD with fic, and have like 15 other things I've been working on and taking up precious time.

* * *

She paces in front of the motel room door, smoking a calming cigarette as she walks, trying to steel herself enough to not just shoot the bastard. It was one thing to take her best friend away from her. It was another to then leave said BFF, and not even give a reason why. She'd tracked the rat bastard down across four states, six hours of driving, and was _thisclose_ to just kicking the door in and beating him to death with her bare hands.

She'd never seen Maura look so _broken_ before until that day about a week prior when she'd walked into the morgue and saw Maura looking – well, there was no other word to describe it but _deflated._ Like someone had completely let all of everything out, and all that was left was a sagging shell of nothing. And she'd listened to what happened with a rising anger inside of her. No one had any right to do that to Maura. No one.

And she smokes. She smokes to calm herself down enough to not do something that she'll regret – although she's not sure if she'd regret doing anything to the little shit. As the cigarette burned down to the filter, she straightened herself, knocking twice on the door, yelling out "Front Desk!" knowing that there was no way he'd open the door if she had said who she was.

"Jane?" He questions as she sticks a foot in the door to prevent him from slamming it in her face, forcing her way in.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She questions, immediately in his face. "You marry her and then you run off after you knock her up? What the hell do you think you're doing?" She's surprised at how passive he's being, not even attempting to do anything more than turn around and sit down on the edge of his bed. She knows he's got a bad track record with marriage. The second it had become serious between him and Maura she had done a background check that the military would have been jealous of, but she'd never thought he'd just up and run off.

"I know, I'm sorry." She blinked, not believing the words coming out of his mouth.

"You're sorry? You just wake up one morning, pack your bags and leave without even so much as a 'this isn't working out' and you just say sorry! You load up all your stuff, and leave in the middle of the day so that Maura came home to an empty fucking house, and all you can say about that is that you're _sorry? _Sorry – sorry doesn't even begin to cover what you should be feeling." She was angry, furious, a hell on wheels, and he was doing nothing to defend himself. He just sat there, taking her ranting at him, without saying anything. "Dammit, _do_ something, don't just sit there."

"What am I supposed to do?" She blinked, wondering why _he _was the one that was sounding defeated. That was definitely something that was all Maura, she was the one that was supposed to be sad about a husband leaving her the day after telling him something that was supposed to be happy news for a married couple. "She doesn't love me." The confusion was multiplied.

"She's crazy about you, what the hell are you going on about?"

"She loves the idea of me. She doesn't love me." If she hadn't been confused already, she _definitely_ was now. "You weren't there when she told me. Maura – she – you could tell it was something that she wanted, but that at the same time, it wasn't. The right thing, but for the wrong reasons. She doesn't love me, and I knew it. I knew it when I married her – thought that it could be all right, that we could pretend about it. But when she told me she was-" The sentence trailed off, and she nodded. "It's not fair to do that to a kid."

"What?" She questioned, pushing him, wanting to hear his damned side of the story.

"Have them grow up in a house where their parents feel obligated to love each other. And it's not that I don't – I do. I do love her. But she and I – we're just – we _settled_ for each other." Her left temple was starting to ache, and she hated the feeling working it's way through her chest. Like she was getting something, but not getting it, and she wondered if it was a doctor thing, being able to describe things so as to make no sense at all.

"The fuck you going on about?"

"Maura is -" There was a beat, and Jane shifted uncomfortably, "She's in love with the idea of love, she wants the house, the kids, the family, the happy doting spouse, the white picket fence – the whole nine yards. So do I. I want to be able to come home and feel like I'm _home_ and not just at the house, feel like everything is complete."

"So why are you here and not in Boston?"

"Because Boston wasn't home."

"She would have followed you here." The words are quiet, and somewhere, she can feel her heart breaking at the very thought.

"No she wouldn't. In person maybe, but she wouldn't ever feel at home here, the same way I would never feel at home in Boston. We settled for each other, because we thought it would work. We thought that we both wanted the same thing, that we could make it work, and that if we pretended hard enough it would work." A large hand ran through sandy hair, pausing on the back of a neck. "We were fools. Pretending that we could ignore what was right in front of us." The dull ache was threatening to become a full on migraine, and she wonders if Maura married him if only because everything he said sounded like a puzzle to be solved.

"What?"

"My home, it's a place that smells like whiskey and stale smoke, and aftershave, and there's beer cans on the table, and terrible movies on the television, and too much takeout, and it's an absolute wreck that I'm forever trying to set right, and we're hardly ever there, and rarer still there together with work and everything, but it's _home._ What I had with Maura, I thought that maybe it would get there, but it won't. My home is here, in a run down little apartment, and Maura's is – well, to be honest, I don't think I've seen your place." She blinks, all the pieces of the puzzle fitting together, before she turns, and runs – not walks – back to the car.

She chain smokes her way through the rest of the pack on the six hour drive back to Boston, wondering how she could have been so blind. Her phone rings while she's somewhere in Connecticut, and she frowns when she hears the funeral march begin. "Hey." She says, trying to pretend that she's not feeling six hundred thousand different things right now.

"Where did you go?" She hates herself for rushing off and not telling Maura because right now, more than anything, Maura needed her. Maura needed someone that she could lean on, someone to protect her, someone to be with her, and even a day apart was too long.

"I-uh-found James."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"How is he?" The words are perfunctory, polite, without a single emotion in them.

"He – went home."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Back to Princeton." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yeah. Listen, I'll be home soon, we can talk about it then, okay?"

"Oh. Yeah." She sat back in the seat, thinking that 95 should not be this crowded at six on a Sunday, and when she crosses the bridge that takes her into Massachusetts she's suddenly got a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. What if James was wrong? What if this would all come crashing down around them? Would Maura settle for her as well, just to have a sort of happy ending? She knew that she would settle for anything so long as Maura was there. Whether it was standing up in a pretty blue dress and playing maid of honor, whether it was coming in to be a good babysitter for her best friend, or whether it involved _them_ together, in a forever sort of way. She would happily take whatever part of Maura she could get.

But it didn't stop her from staring at the cigarette burning between her fingers, watching it slowly burn down to the filter, parked outside of her own apartment, wondering what she could say. Wondering how to broach the unbroachable topic. But when she finally stubs it out and opens the door, she doesn't even need to look to know Maura's already there, she can feel it when she steps through the threshold and finds herself feeling at _home._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N see, promised you a happy ending, and then the last chapter is going to be complete and utter fluff. I promise.

* * *

She laid there, boneless for a long moment before she started getting an entirely different type of craving. It'd been a long, long time since she'd felt this way after sex, but this – this wasn't just sex. This was what was perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to her. She slipped from the bed, smiling at where Maura lay there, somewhere in the haze of pleasure. "I'm going to go take Jo for a walk real fast. Be right back." She dropped a gentle kiss to Maura's temple, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt.

She slipped outside and headed to her car, digging through the glove box for the small pack of marlboro lights that she kept in there in case of emergency. She fished one out and looked down at the little terrier who trotted along at her heels. "Not one word of this. This is our little secret." She said, talking to her dog.

She strolled the block slowly, enjoying the taste, even if the cigarette was mostly stale. How long had that pack been in there, anyway? There were still at least a dozen cigarettes left in it, and she makes a mental note to give the rest to Rondo and buy a fresh one that wouldn't be quite so stale, before simply enjoying the cigarette and what life was. This, this was something that finally felt right.

She'd finally gotten it. Her fairy tale sort of ending. It was her, and Maura, and no one else. They'd had it with failed relationships, and pretending as though what they had wasn't there. They had their family, and they didn't need anything – anyone else to intrude. No more James, or Casey, or anyone else to risk breaking their hearts. They didn't need their hearts broken. They just needed each other.

She had come back from chewing out James to find Maura waiting at her apartment, already sitting on the couch. They'd talked. Maura thanked her for going down and talking to James. Maura and James and talked, and Jane found herself getting more and more uncomfortable, before Maura had come right out and asked what she'd meant with the kiss at the wedding. She hadn't thought that Maura had even remembered it. After a few minutes of stammering, Maura had taken pity on her and kissed her, a kiss that promised a sort of _forever_ kind of love, and not the transient, fleeting sort of love that caved at first struggle like what Maura and James had had.

And they had just sort of fallen together into _this._ The most mindblowing sex of her life. The sort of feeling that everything had clicked into place, and no matter what trials and tribulations their relationship went through, they would be there for each other. That they _loved_ each other, and that no matter what else, love could conquer all. This was exactly where she belonged. Here, with Maura, forever.

She made it as far as the light on the corner before she found herself already craving Maura in her arms again, and she turned to head back. And if she was grinning soppily as she walked, what of it? She was allowed to. Her life was finally making sense again.

"What?" she questioned, as she slipped back into bed, turning her head to look at where Maura was frowning down at her.

"You smell like smoke."

"Do I?" She's trying to play innocent and failing. She could feel Maura's accusatory glare on her, and she swears that if she stuck the woman in an interrogation room with a suspect they would cave in a second. She feared for Maura's – for _their_ – children. It was still something that she was getting used to. This idea of _them, _finally as a duo, together. The idea of _them _being a family, being each other's everything. This was what it felt like her whole life had been building up to, and now that she had it, she loved it and didn't want it to ever go away. She did her best to try and hold out before she finally groaned and rolled over. "Fine. Yes. I just had the most mindblowing sex of my life, I kinda felt it was warranted." She did her best to put on apologetic puppy dog eyes and felt Maura melt above her, the frown relaxing into a soft smile. "I'm sorry." She says, and she is. She's sorry that it took so long for them to get to this point. Sorry that they had to go through so much heartache to get there. Sorry that it had taken so much frustration and so many cigarettes for her to realize that this was where she was supposed to be.

"Don't be." Is Maura's response and she turns to kiss the woman only to feel a finger come to rest against her lips, gently pressing her away. "Uh-uh. Go brush your teeth, and _then_ I'll consider kissing you again."


End file.
